


Hearsay

by AndreaLyn



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's poker night with the boys, but Liebgott's taken off. It just gives the rest of them time to exchange some stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearsay

“Alright, deal’s up boys,” Talbert was announcing to the four other men. Liebgott had run off a couple minutes ago and Babe was sitting down to take his place in the crowded little room, smoke hovering above them like a dream that refused to lift. Luz was cracking jokes left, right, and center and Skinny was doing his best to ignore them while he focused on his hand. Christenson almost rarely said a word, speaking only to the women, men, and objects in his cards.   
  
Before they could get to the business of poker, there was the serious matter of passing cigarettes and booze around. You couldn’t play a proper game of cards until you had Hitler’s champagne to sip at. “Like a real fucking gentleman,” Babe muttered, yanking his glass back from Skinny, who’d been drinking it pinky-up in the air. “C’mon, give it back, I yanked that stuff from Perconte’s hands myself!”  
  
“For that, a brave man,” Luz cracked, cigarette firmly ensconced between his lips as he dealt the cards. He’d been dealer all night and everyone’s luck had been fairly even.   
  
Tab reached across the table to lift the corner of the bills lying haphazardly on the table. “Joe took off without his cash,” he pointed out the obvious.   
  
“He’ll be back,” Christenson spoke for the first time since about Hand Four.   
  
“Probably off to kill more Nazi fuckers,” Luz commented, shaking his head. “Babe, how many cards you want?”  
  
“Gimme three,” he said, sliding them across the table. “You guys hear that rumor? I heard he rode into town the other day, corralled himself three prisoners like Speirs asked him to, then he shot ‘em in the back of the head. One by one!” He grasped the new cards and let out a moan. “Fuck, I’m out,” he said, folding his hand. “But I swear to you, I swear I heard it. Garcia says he heard it from Perconte who heard tell from Vest.”  
  
“Any more links in that chain and you’ll have yourself a fence, Babe,” Christenson warned mildly. He slid one card across the table, leaning back and digging through his pockets to start finding more cash. When he got a card back, he placed a five dollar bill in the pot. “Besides, that’s just clearly not true.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Luz commented, shuffling his cards around. “Heard he pulled some kinda antics up on that mountain with the Kommandant that Speirs sent him to interrogate. Skinny, that true?”  
  
Skinny was staring intently at his cards. “Nothing happened,” he mumbled, mouth sounding full of marbles.  
  
“Yeah, well, I heard Web locked him in the hotel room til he swore he’d turn his gun into Speirs,” Luz said firmly. “And that one, I overheard myself from the man who wrote the dictionary.”  
  
“And Liebgott listened?” Talbert expressed disbelief, rooting through his pile of money to call Christenson’s bet.  
  
“When has Joe Liebgott ever listened? He knocked the lock loose and they had that fucking argument in the hall for the next twenty minutes about how Web isn’t his mother and Web thinks Joe’s off the rails or something. Next thing you know,” Luz relayed, prying his cigarette out of his mouth to spit at the floor, “Liebgott’s storming off to take a drive and Web’s off to the lake.”  
  
“With me,” Christenson lightly reminded. “He was moody, but nothing out of the ordinary.”  
  
“Him and Joe fighting like an old bitter married couple  _is_  ordinary now,” Babe sighed, watching the game progress without him.   
  
“No one else was with them on that drive up to the cellar,” Skinny complained with a mild whine. “Swear to god, if either of them said one more bitching word or shouted at the other, I was about to tumble and roll off that Jeep.”  
  
The hand was won by Luz and there were the assorted sounds of winning and ungrateful losing before another hand was dealt.  
  
The drinks were flowing heavily and the stories became easier to come by with every passing moment. Skinny kept his mouth shut about Austrian mountaintops, Talbert relayed the blonde Austrian he’d taken to skinny-dipping with, and everything kept losing and winning money in roundabout even rounds.   
  
It was a good night, but for Joe Liebgott’s inexplicable storming off just because Babe had asked about the day and Talbert had given the grave news of another life lost.  
  
*  
  
Skinny tried to walk a straight line, eternally grateful he hadn’t been caught on the way back with his winnings and his breath smelling of booze. Good Lord, but the night was a good one when he made a surplus and wasn’t even too drunk that he needed to have his ankles dragged by Luz and Christenson.  
  
He was trying to stop one helluva yawn as he stumbled his way back into his room. Next door, he could hear the hushed sounds of conversation, even though the door was closed and it took Skinny a long moment to recall through the haze of his tipsiness that it was Webster’s room next door, but he swore, he  _swore_  that was Liebgott.  
  
“You scared the fuck out of me.”  
  
“It’s not like I deliberately arranged for you to hear it like that.”  
  
“Jesus Chris, Webster, I thought you died,” Liebgott was admitting, voice an echoed and fragment of a pained admission. “You know how fucking terrified I was when I heard the news that there was an accident on guard duty today? Just because I give you a hard time doesn’t mean you can leave me, you asshole.”  
  
Skinny rubbed at his eyes, mighty confused as to what this was about. And since the walls were thin as paper, it wasn’t like he could mute the Webster and Liebgott Debacle so much as he could pull up a chair and a drink.   
  
There were soft shuffling sounds and Skinny pressed his ear against the wall. Sounded almost like sheets sliding and then something like…kissing? Skinny blinked rapidly and thought that he was definitely a lot drunker than he thought if that was what he was hearing (that, and a little too devoid of company of the female persuasion).  
  
“I won’t leave you, Joe. War’s over.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up,” Liebgott was muttering. “And lie still.”  
  
Skinny definitely, definitely had been drinking too much. And the boys were never going to believe this come the next night’s poker match.  
  
THE END


End file.
